PRAETOR ULTIMUS MAXIMUS
by seagregateddeity
Summary: How is one's identity refined by the power of their legion? Rome may not have been built in a day - but could one bloom as a leader?


**DISCLAIMER:** Showcased context and means of information are derived from these respective series; _ **Percy Jackson & the Olympians**_ and _**Heroes of Olympus**_ by Richard Russell Riordan. Copyright or forms of plagiarism would not be conceded, thereof it would not be sanction unless permission of re-posting is allowed. All rights reserved.

 _ **PRAETOR ULTIMUS MAXIMUS**_

Friends, Romans, countrymen. Lend me your ears.

As we perceive of this momentum, profound leaders reside in their adroit abilities, defining their constitution – refining and whipping them into shape; the ones who guarantee safety, fuel other's notions, exploit their ulterior motives.

Perhaps, those were the standard rates of scavenging for a good, decent leader. More than often, people – _oh human nature_ – enforces their will to become what they prefer to imbue. Not of natural descent or disposition – but to boast off; accentuating their superiority (quite patronizing autocracy really). The title 'Leader' delineates a confounding liability, amongst a nation, a 'Leader' must drive and push them to triumph. But again, not all are able to adapt the adept position of one.

Remus and Romulus were paradigms of, allegedly, leaders. Brothers in arms – collaboratively – they scourge through the impenetrable barrier of the impossible. From them born the colony of Rome; their she-wolf (what a symbol of their exact animosity and hostility!) mother, spoon fed with a silver spoon despite the circumstances. Was this, as people may mutter and frown upon in indignation, the reason why they were inadequate to evocate a powerful nation? This potent condemned their brawls, chagrin and famish for influence.

And yet in the end, they had been their own Julius Caesar.

Now, for instance, Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano was an alter ego. The Reyna we are familiar with; as noble and honorable as Brutus – Octavian as her vindictive, astute Cassius – eager to evict the ambitious and power hungry Julius Caesars that languishes with the people of New Rome. But in all modesty, wasn't there a Caesar in all of us? Whilst her colleague Jason Grace, the incarnation of Mark Antony, defends her, she immerses herself into the utmost safeguard of her colony.

Until he vanquished.

But before we could question this anomaly and furor the queen Juno (preferably Hera) stirred up, we have to come to one conclusion first. How did our dearest, altruistic, clever praetor do when the young man she had loved wisped through her grasp – what was _her_ reaction? Did we think about that before the tumblr posts popped out and pointed that out? Or did we forget, by calling her Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, she was that broken girl she left behind. She was Reyna – sister to the queen of the Amazons, raised by expectations of chatty senates and aspiring centurions; gods, held in high regards to Terminus – _all of New Rome_. But with the shrewd augur nibbling at her every word, every action, every decision; a nation depending on her, what does this leader do when the heat of the pressure and frustration becomes too unbearable to sustain with a cool extrinsic?

She. Stood. Strong.

Remember those wretched kids who wrecked your home; not house no, I mean your most trusted friends. The ones who used to bully and ridicule you? Well, in this case, only the first part was true. Now, imagine drowning in sorrow because of them, the impact they caused you for their _selfish, barbaric, irrational reasons._ That's what Reyna felt when she reckoned the traumatic experience with Blackbeard. Who was Percy Jackson? Annabeth Chase? Why, specifically, did they have the _audacity_ to do what they did?

Yet thanks to them, she and Hylla rose from their fragments; scapegoats of Circe's illegally trained sorceress. They fought back. They were epitomes of war and courage.

She was remarkable.

And eventually (or shall we say subsequently), once exploited as the daughters of Bellona, the Moirais had destined them for so much better. A legendary future. One in where they both lead.

But not at the same place.

Reyna was a fool for believing that they would always stick together, partners-in-crime, as _siblings_. For where could she find a replacement, a book the exact replica of the mass Hylla weighed on her life to swoop in and not get her caught in the trap of darkness?

It was Jason Grace. Her beloved colleague. Her comrade. Her heartbreaker.

Years of training, years of accumulating her unrequited emotions, she dispersed her identity into two aspects; a Praetor and a person. A human being. She was an overworked machine. However one thought frequently crossed her mind when she thrashed her cot at night; would he remember her?

Then you all know what happens. The proclaimed, famous son of Neptune (or Poseidon) arrives with the curse of Achilles, then begone it was in the Little Tiber, a roman territorial jurisdiction. Banished the reviving gorgons, mastered the War Games, befriended Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang, recruited by the mediocres. She had to keep these thoughts inside though, she had to be a fair leader. Not even the peering suspicion of Nico di Angelo could seep in her prejudice. As Percy left her grounds, her heart ached; skipping a pulse out of dejection and rejection. Yet her hope thrives on the ring she had given him, _hope_ that connects with her sister.

And for all she knew, they came back victorious. Help the Twelth Legion fight the forces of Polybotes' army; _Gaea's_ brewing chess game. Reyna was merely a knight protecting the gods.

Somehow, albeit the lack of contact, seeing her sister made her want to crumble and nuzzle into her arms. It was a re-union on the Amazon's and the Camp's behalf; a signal that interjects any sort of slander or rivalry. Had she known, Octavian was conspiring some other quarrel with his aversion towards the graecus. And the thought made her chuckle, her head would flick in a lopsided manner and eyes penetrating his pale ones as if beckoning him to 'bring it'.

Afterwards Percy's noble conviction, then came the ship she had feared, but inside, the ship she had longed to view afloat, at the mast there would have stood Jason Grace. But instead? She saw Annabeth Chase run up to her long lost lover, judo flipping him in the process. When they made previous contact beforehand, her eyes reflected her own kin; she was like her in a sense that she was a ticking bomb of pent up emotions, chin raised for the glory and awe. But to her she was translucent. They were congruent.

The Feast was spectacular; then the turn of events occurred. By the café whilst she and Annabeth negotiated, a stray ambush provoked outbursts. She hurriedly raced down to get a better panoramic vantage; only to be met with a firing threat from Leo Valdez.

Her stomach churned at that moment. A voice in her head trusted them, but she stood corrected. They weren't good. They were _graecus_.

 _They were claiming themselves as the seven of the Great Prophecy. They had to be stopped from this mistake._

 _But with all the mixed indications, the urgency of the situations showed that it wasn't some deceiving trickery._

Reyna, later onto the night, forcefully slammed the door of her barrack shut.

From afar, it would've been normal. You wouldn't have heard the inaudible, suffocating sobs she tried to endure. You wouldn't have seen her pounding her fists on the hardwood floor inexorably, asking for an answer that she would never receive. All you would have sensed was the placid demeanor she attempted to convey; to her colleagues, to her legion, to her people. And she tried. She tried so hard to be courageous, to lend out strength. She was born to fight back, to abdicate partiality and bring in equity to her nation. She tried so hard to rid of her trauma, her father's soul terrorized her unstable mentality. To please the men she fell for in the romance inclination – but never once they reciprocated what she felt for them.

The daughter of Bellona weeped, screeched, screamed and poured her thrumming trepidation out that night. Her tear-streaked toga dreadfully soaked in their misery, just like how she choked on hers. Aurum and Argentum scooted and wagged their way away from her- Reyna needed time. She clutched her throat as she vehemently scowled and bared her teeth at the non-existent figments of her reverie: the one where she could finally adjust and love in peace.

Reyna pursed her lips, then faced upwards onto the vacant barrack's with provoked squinted eyes. Blindly, she yanked her damp toga off, leaving the brittle air manifesting and brushing against her flushed Hispanic skin beneath her casual attire.

She didn't deserve to be a praetor. She didn't deserve to be cherished. She didn't deserve her sister's familial affection. She didn't deserve a family to rely on.

She was a rubble of an imperial dagger — chipped unbeknownst to anyone. _She was Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, the fractured girl she thought she left behind._

 **SIGNIFICANT REMINDERS**

 **\- Keep in mind this sets everything up to the context of the first half in Mark of Athena**

 **\- It actually started as a headcanon during MOA after the Eidolon ambush at Camp Jupiter. Reyna locks herself up, breaks down from so many liabilities after the invasion, her bravado crumbled before she could pick herself right back up.**

 **And that's a wrap for my first (yet brief) analysis! Thank you for the time and patience you have exerted onto reading this. Don't forget to insert some feedbacks or improvements below, and donate a follow or favorite if you've immensely liked it (:**


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